


i’ll be home for christmas

by strawberryfire



Series: Harringrove: A Hallmark Special [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove being less but kinda being an asshole, Fluff, Good Friend Robin Buckley, Love Confessions, M/M, angsty, idk what to tag this lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:11:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21503542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfire/pseuds/strawberryfire
Summary: Steve loves Christmas and can’t take Billy not being there with him.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Harringrove: A Hallmark Special [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549951
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	i’ll be home for christmas

**Author's Note:**

> hope y’all like this lol this was supposed to be really fluffy but i made it angsty bc that’s how i roll lmao

Steve sits alone in his fully decorated house, the fireplace keeping it warm, sipping on apple cider. Robin had gone to Chicago with her mom and dad to be with family. Nancy and Jonathan had moved away to St. Louis and apparently were currently stuck at the airport. Tommy and Carol were gone too, last Steve heard they had moved to Manhattan. Good for them. 

Then, Billy. Billy had gone to California towards the end of August without telling anyone. He told Max, who then told everyone else. It was a punch to the chest and it left Steve crying for days. The kids didn’t know, they had no clue that Steve and Billy had been seeing each other for months. 

After the fight at the Byers, Steve decided he was going to apologize because that’s the type of person he was and he felt bad because there was just something about Billy that Steve couldn’t get his finger on. When he knocked on the door of Cherry Lane, Billy answered with a black eye and tears on his cheeks and it shattered Steve’s heart. Billy fought, he really did and he acted like a brat, but with enough convincing Steve took him back to his house and patched him up. 

Steve apologized, and told Billy he could come over any time. Billy just scoffed, saying he didn’t need pretty boy to worry about him. 

Billy, slowly but surely, started coming over almost every Friday night. They would get high, watch shitty horror movies and got close enough that Steve considered him a friend. Close enough that Billy slept over one weekend and saw Steve have a night terror. It was the first of many times that Billy saw Steve cry.

That November night—his tan skin, his sweet smile, the way he held Steve like he was the only thing that ever mattered to Billy. They talked about the monsters that haunted them until the sun came up and Steve had never felt so loved by somebody before. But, Billy didn’t care. Billy was hurt, broken beyond repair and Steve couldn’t give him the care he needed. Still, Steve tried. Relentlessly, he kept pushing and pushing himself in, desperately trying to break down the walls Billy had built around him.

Steve gave and he gave, but it was never enough. 

Then December rolled around and the snow was colder than ever before. That’s when the kisses started, the chain smoking and the sex that was so desperate and that’s when Steve had Billy’s touch imprinted on every inch of his body. They were matches that caught fire too quick but burned long and hot. They spent each afternoon together, it wasn’t just Friday’s anymore. Third week into the month and they got snowed in, so school was canceled. Billy hated the snow, hated how it got in his hair and he hated the cold. Didn’t hate it as much though, when he was huddled up in Steve’s arms wearing his hoodie while Frank Sinatra sang through the speakers of the record player. It was surreal and Billy became addicted to the softness of Steve, the way he could be so gentle even with the spark in his eyes that was bright like the sun. 

He also learned that Steve absolutely adored Christmas. He went to the Christmas tree farm on the outskirts of town and spent hours in the 20 degree weather trying to find the perfect tree. Billy thought bitching the whole time would’ve made Steve hurry up; it did the opposite and Steve just took longer. It was worth nearly getting hypothermia to see Steve’s smile as they took the perfect tree home. They decorated it with the God awful metallic tinsel and multi colored ornaments from Woolworth’s. Steve put poinsettias outside along with way too many lights. 

When Billy asked why Steve put up so much, he said it was because it made the house feel more homey. Less empty and less cold. 

They drank too much that night and ended up driving to the Wheeler’s, keying Karen’s car and speeding down the backroads blasting Metallica so loud it rang in Steve’s ears but he loved it. Loved how good Billy looked in leather, the way his jet black stare made Steve’s heart jump up to his throat. 

They went to the quarry and fucked in the backseat of the Camaro, then went back to Steve’s house and fucked in Steve’s bed and it was so good Steve almost said I love you. 

December of ‘84 was their month, it was when they were on fucking fire and they burned blue whenever they kissed. Steve was love drunk, completely addicted to Billy even though he did stupid shit and ran his mouth too much but Steve swears to God that boy with the tan skin and devil smile had black magic running through his veins. Billy never said I love you, but called his doe eyed boy his baby. Nobody could have him but Billy. Steve knew Billy was so fucked up, he was crazy, but he was just so fucking good in bed and they were on fire. 

And here Steve was, alone in the house that Billy should’ve helped decorated, staring at the tree that he picked out all by himself. Sitting alone—holding the mug that Billy used every Saturday morning, wrapped in the red plaid blanket Billy loved, and trying to get warm but he couldn’t be warm because last December, Billy was always there. 

Ever since July, Steve needed Billy even more but Billy was done. He had snapped and Steve couldn’t imagine the pain he was going through. Steve tried to help, tried to be gentle like he always was, but it was either too much or too little. Steve still couldn’t tell. They never kissed anymore, Billy never called Steve baby, it was always rough and angry sex that left Steve alone in his bed while Billy walked out the front door at 2am. 

Then Billy just. Left. Without a word. 

Steve cried so hard it left him weak for days. Robin tried to help, and she kinda did. She at least kept him from numbing the pain at the expense of his liver. 

By November, Steve was heartbroken. Hollow and tired. He pushed everyone away, including Dustin because Dustin was a fucking kid, he wouldn’t understand shit like this. 

Steve went to work everyday and stayed silent. Robin tried to crack jokes, tried to make him laugh. It never worked. Every single day without fail, Steve stayed hung up on wishful thinking that Billy would walk through the door of Family Video and maybe the cold wouldn’t be so bad anymore. 

December finally came and Steve was still senselessly empty. The days were so dull and he felt as grey as the colorless sky that stretched across Hawkins. He just convinced himself he was being dramatic. 

Robin walks into work, snowflakes covering her hair and coat, “Heya, Stevie!” She says happily with a grin. She always said it like that, trying to make Steve happy too. 

“Hey.” Steve says deadpan, flipping through the new stack of comics. 

“Excited for Christmas? 

“Not really.”

Robin frowns and puts on her vest, “Stevie, I’m gettin’ desperate here. I can’t let you be so miserable any longer. I mean, could you at least tell me why?”

He sighs and rubs his fingers through his hair, “You can’t judge me.”

She sits up on the counter and looks around at the empty store, “It’s just you and me, dingus. No judgement here.”

Steve looks at her and she’s got a hint of worry in her eyes, “I’m all ears, Stevie. Seriously.” 

He takes a deep breath and keeps his head down to avoid any eye contact, “Y’know um…Billy.”

“Hargrove?”

“Yeah um…I…” He messes with his watch and his hands shake a little, “We had been seeing each other since maybe…October of last year. I always spend my Christmases alone because my parents get stuck in Chicago and…and Billy, he spent Christmas with me, I just…I hadn’t felt that kind of completely desperate and rough love before and I…I loved him. No I love him, present tense. He didn’t even say a single word to me before he left. Not even a kiss on the cheek. He left me standing in the road with my heart in my hands and he didn’t fucking care at all.” 

Robin stares in shock. 

“So yeah. I’ve been dealing with a bigger broken heart than when Nancy said she didn’t love me at Tina’s Halloween party. It kinda hurts the same amount, actually. The two people I loved unconditionally…” He shakes his head and laughs under his breath, “They never loved me back.” 

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever fucking heard.” Robin whispers. 

“I didn’t hold back with him, Robin. I ripped open everything for him. _Never_ fucking held back, told him everything. I’m literally…like…homesick for him. It’s absolutely pathetic.”

Robin sits there for a few minutes then gets up and hugs Steve. Properly hugs him, with her arms around his waist. Steve hugs back holding back tears. 

“You deserve more, Stevie. You know that right?”

“No I don’t.” Steve mumbles. 

“Shut up, dingus. Yes you do.” 

She squeezes him tightly before letting go, “You do, Steve.” 

At the end of the day, the sky is painted with pastels pinks and Steve smiles a little, since the winter sunsets reminded him of Billy. 

Robin hugs him again, and tells him to have a happy Christmas, to focus on the good and spend time with the kids. 

Steve drives home, picking up Chinese takeout on the way. Once he drives up Loch Nora, he notices in the distance a car in his driveway. He just assumes that for once in his goddamn life, his parents would be home. 

But once he gets closer, it’s not either of his parents fancy foreign cars. 

It’s Billy Hargrove’s ‘97 beautiful blue Camaro, shiny with a new coat of paint. 

Steve nearly crashes his own car with the shock. He parks and his hands are shaking again, struggling to unlock the door and get out. He runs up to the front door and he stops. 

Four and a half months. Four and a half months of crying himself to sleep, loosing his mind completely. And this was it. Billy’s arms that felt like home, his sunshine smile and the kiss that ripped the breath out of Steve’s chest. He was standing right behind the door.

Steve slowly opens the door and Billy is standing by the fireplace, setting down mugs on the coffee table. He’s got the same leather jacket clinging to his arms, his hair is freshly curled and he looks beautiful. He always looks beautiful. 

“Billy…” Steve breathes out. 

Billy looks up and sees the pretty doe eyed boy that he fell in love with in October. The guilt comes quick and it’s crushing. Steve’s eyes are so tired and he looks pale, like he doesn’t go outside anymore. His cheeks and nose are rosy pink, snowflakes scattered in his hair. 

Billy smiles softly, “Hey there, pretty boy.”

Steve runs into his arms and hugs him so tight Billy almost falls over. Steve’s sobbing, the kind of sobbing where your whole body shakes and you can’t breathe. 

Billy rubs Steve’s back and holds him close, “It’s alright, baby. It’s alright.”

Baby. This just makes Steve cry more, completely overwhelmed with emotion. He was way too happy to be angry.

“Baby, breathe. You’re okay now.” Billy kisses Steve’s tears away, “My pretty baby. I’m here now, I’m not leaving, okay?” 

“You’re such a jerk.” Steve chokes out and sniffs, “Why? Why did you leave? I…I did…I did everything.”

“I know…Stevie, I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. I knew that you need more love that I could have given you. I needed to find myself…to find whatever piece of me I’ve lost.” Billy gently cups Steve’s cold face and smiles, “But, I’m ready to love you, Stevie. I love you, baby.” 

Steve’s bottom lip trembles and whispers, “I love you more. I love you so much.”

Billy reaches over to the record player and turns on Frank Sinatra I’ll Be Home for Christmas. He wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and Steve rests his head on Billy’s shoulder, slowly swaying back and forth in each other’s arms. 

“Merry Christmas, my pretty boy.” Billy whispers softly. 


End file.
